> ## Content Index > Fetch the complete content index at: https://bigecho.co.uk/llms.txt > Use this file to discover other available public pages before exploring further. # My Story - URL: https://bigecho.co.uk/resources/my-story/ - Published: 2026-08-21T05:36:00.000Z - Updated: 2026-08-21T08:13:45.000Z - Description: My journey starting, scaling and closing a business over 10 years - and what I did next. - Author: Tom Parson - Tags: News, #colour-accent-green, #colour-maroon **In 2021 I was sat in A&E, pretty sure I was dying.** I’ve always been someone who likes problems, but this was a stretch, even for me. When I was 14, I taught myself to code. It wasn't to make money, particularly. It was 2003 and six figure developer roles didn’t exist yet. It was because I liked problems, and building things that solved them. A year later, a friend of mine confidently suggested to her mum that I could help make a new website for the charity she ran, and I was somehow handed my first freelance client (thanks, Sarah!). To be paid for something I would have done for free? I became hooked on that feeling. Over the following years I freelanced through undergrad, postgrad and a web development job at a local marketing agency. It was there that I met Harry Potts, and in 2015 we founded Huddle Digital. ## Highs and lows We started small, and gradually the business adopted more and more challenges, offerings, stakeholders, processes, opinions… the stakes grew and grew. Over the next few years we hired a team, took on more and more impressive clients, and grew profit year on year. We did everything you're meant to do. I poured myself into each part of Huddle. When I saw a problem, I jumped to fix it. I wanted the business to thrive, of course, but if I’m honest with myself, I also wanted to be a hero. To get a validating pat on the back. As we grew, I was meeting more and more people - all of whom I felt the need to impress. I felt like I needed to have all the answers, all the time. Not just for prospects and clients, but for our team too. I believed everyone was relying on me to have it all figured out. > I wanted the business to thrive, of course, but if I’m honest with myself, I also wanted to be a hero. To get a validating pat on the back. This led to me wearing a whole bunch of hats. I was responsible for all revenue, marketing, sales, project management, most client management, even some web development when we needed it. Not to mention the self-imposed “fixer” role I was taking - always trying to improve how we worked across all areas - processes, tools, services. 2021 came around. We were emerging from COVID, battered and bruised but doing okay. I was responsible for several big projects at the time. One was for our biggest, longest standing client, and it was not going well. Because of this, the client was taking all the pressure and criticism she was getting from above, and sliding it right through Zoom into my lap on a weekly basis. I wasn’t great at asserting boundaries then, so I let this happen. I became a bottleneck, not comfortable sharing any of my stress with the wider team. This was the proverbial straw, I the camel, and after months (years?) of mounting pressure, it all became too much. ## Burnout So, I found myself in A&E. I’d been working from home, and had driven myself there when I found I couldn’t breathe, feeling like my chest was made of stone. The thing that really scared me was that I didn’t even really see it coming. When I was in A&E the doctor told me I was having a panic attack. She asked me how often I felt like this. I said most days, for the last few months at least. It dawned on me then that I wasn’t okay, actually! I’d been fed so much bullshit like “everybody is stressed” or “nobody sleeps properly these days” or “it’s the price you pay for running a business.” I believed what I was going through was normal. > “It’s the price you pay for running a business.” I believed what I was going through was normal. I was prescribed medication, I quit caffeine, and I *finally* gave myself permission to not have to be the hero all the time. See, the thing nobody tells you about building a business is that you’re not actually meant to *have* all the answers. At any point, really. Not least because it’s just not possible in a world that’s constantly changing. But mostly because it would menacing you're not really doing anything worth doing. Besides, I would hate that! As a curious person, the thought of having nothing left to discover genuinely saddened me. Over the next few years I made some key lifestyle changes. We hired a project manager. We gave notice to that particular client. I spent less time working, and more time enjoying my other passion - making music. I began to feel calmer, more accepting of my limitations, and more open to new things. ## Endings Then in 2024, we had a couple of years of financial difficulty. We lost some retainer clients, our pitches placed 2nd too many times, and costs continued to rise. Our clients loved us, and we did great work, but it wasn’t enough. We saw the writing on the wall, and, after much deliberation, we decided to close down in our current form. Did firing that client catch up with us in the end? Maybe. Could we have streamlined and built back up? Probably. Could we have done things differently? Definitely. But deep down I knew something wasn’t working. I didn’t regret any decisions we’d made, even if they’d lead to this point. This was the biggest sign to me that I’d changed, and that I was ready for something new. > I felt incapable, ashamed and out of control. I'd say my three least favourite feelings. For a long time, I felt disappointed. I’d failed. Something I’d spent years building had ended. And not on my terms. I felt incapable, ashamed and out of control. I'd say my three least favourite feelings. But in January 2025, our last day together arrived. Everything ran its course, it was out in the open, and I discovered that I felt relieved. The reaction from my family, friends, clients, peers - it wasn’t what I expected at all. I expected thinly veiled platitudes at best, crushing parental disappointment at worst. But people reminded me instead of how hard I’d worked, what I’d achieved, and how proud I should be. I was reminded that this is just one chapter in my story. ## Beginnings As the dust settled on Huddle, I thought about the journey I’d been on. I hadn’t just taken off a mask, but also the accompanying outfit that had been weighing me down for years. I reflected on my purpose. I knew I wanted to seek out and solve problems, and show others how to do the same. How to use their own curiosity as a superpower to build a better way. > I hadn’t just taken off a mask, but also the accompanying outfit that had been weighing me down for years. I wanted the decade of running Huddle to mean something for others. I wanted to give others what I’d needed, even if I didn’t realise I needed it at the time. So I started Big Echo, so others don't have to go through what I did. So other small organisations can get to where they need to go, without everyone having a breakdown along the way (or worse). I decided to completely subvert any pressure on myself and launch immediately, without overthinking (much). I starting sharing my thoughts and offerings on social media just days after Huddle ended, later followed by a regular newsletter and website. I figured it out as I went. I didn’t even have a logo until 6 months in (!) I discovered my values - my non-negotiables. I took time - what felt like an indulgent amount - to envisage the future I wanted to create for myself and others. Down to what it looked like, sounded like, smelled like. I made it real, and I set my compass in that direction. > I started Big Echo so other small organisations can get to where they need to go, without everyone having a breakdown along the way. I accepted that I couldn’t do it alone, and learned to love asking for help. This one truly took some getting used to. But I realised I owed it to Big Echo to give it the best ideas, resources and opportunities, even if they didn’t all come from me. And crucially, I did all this out in the open. Not only was I open about why Huddle ended, but also that I was building this new thing. This fragile thing. I shared that I was excited and a bit nervous. That I didn’t have all the answers. People responded and rallied. I saw who had believed in me all along. Now, I get to work with good people doing good work, as a trusted partner. Helping to build a better way, using everything I’ve learned. And I’m *still* learning, solving problems, and working on ideas, every day. I love it!